


Be Strong For Me

by Ethan (sakuranboy)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcoholism, Angst, Beware, Destiel - Freeform, Disasters, F/M, Fluff, Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Masturbation, Sexual Tension, Smut, Substance Abuse, Swearing, Terrorism, Work In Progress, based on a song written by my uncle and aunt, destiel!au, don't bother looking on the internet you won't find it, if you're allergic to feels, run while you can, they have a CD and it's wonderful, will not end happily, will not provide you with the song until the last chapter because of reasons
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-18
Updated: 2013-08-02
Packaged: 2017-12-15 08:16:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/847315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sakuranboy/pseuds/Ethan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is a typical successful stock broker in NYC.  Cas is anything but a typical homeless man.  It is amazing how two people can change each other for the better and equally as terrifying how suddenly it can all be ripped away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Remember the Moment We First Said, “Hello”?

**Author's Note:**

> I've been meaning to write more fanfiction lately, and now I've finally decided to go through with an idea of mine :) I absolutely LOVE Destiel fanfiction, especially destiel!au. PLEASE leave comments, it motivates me to write faster! (I know this chapter is kind of short, but I promise the next one will be longer.)
> 
> The asterisks (*) stand for scene changes/time skips.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But there was something about that man’s gaze that sent a chill up Dean’s spine. He felt inexplicably vulnerable, as if those blue eyes of his could pierce through everything between the two men and see directly into Dean’s soul.

 

  
 

The days were all starting to blend together.  Sometimes, Dean would forget what day of the week it was—not that it mattered.  Every single day was the same routine.  In the morning  Dean would wake up to his alarm clock at six-thirty and each time he would groan and hit the snooze  button, only to finally crawl out of bed five minutes later.  In a sleepy haze, he would drag his feet across the rugged floor of his bedroom until he found himself standing in front of the bathroom mirror.  With his hair askew and eyelids droopy, Dean struggles to make himself appear more presentable in the cramped space of the little apartment bathroom.  His girlfriend Lisa would later join him in the kitchen for a quick breakfast before they kissed and departed for their respective jobs.

 

In order to complete his morning routine, Dean _needed_ a cup of Joe.  He had only gone through the day once without coffee and it was disastrous to say the least.  He learned his lesson the hard way and now willingly indulges his daily caffeine addiction at the Starbucks restaurant located a few blocks away from his apartment.

 

Today was just like any other day.  That was Dean’s impression, anyway.

 

The bells on the door jingled merrily as Dean shuffled his way into the cramped Starbucks.  “Son of a bitch…”  He cursed under his breath, bumping absentmindedly into a man on his way inside.  He still wasn’t sure if he was completely awake yet and Christ, did he have a headache.  Those damn store bells sounded like nails on a chalkboard to him right now.  In hindsight, coffee probably wouldn’t help the pounding in his head, but Dean was willing to sacrifice comfort for at least some level of awareness.

 

“Hey, Asshole, watch where ya goin’!”  Dean barely reacted to the stranger’s angry retort and simply slid into the back of the line.  In the Big Apple, you come across all sorts of people.  A good number of them are dicks and sadly that’s just how it is.  You learn to block out the douchebaginess over time, though, sort of like forming a callous.

 

“Next!...Excuse me, Sir, can I help you?”

 

Dean snapped back to reality, his brow furrowing in brief confusion.  Apparently he was even more out of it than usual today.  “Uh…yeah, hold on…”  He pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes, feeling a short moment of relief after the pressure was removed.  He then sniffed and exhaled before continuing with his order.  “I’ll take a grande cappuccino—double shot of espresso.”  He could already tell that he was going to need that extra kick.

 

Once he had paid the barista and received his cappuccino, Dean made his way over to the store’s window bar.  Customers usually sat there in order to people-watch while they enjoyed their coffee.  In all honesty, he did feel slightly creeper-ish as he observed the crowd of pedestrians that strolled by the front of the Starbucks.  For a second he even pondered the concept of being a creeper, evoking a humorous snort at the thought.  Dean often surprised himself with how unexpectedly dark his sense of humor could be.

 

His amused smirk quickly evaporated though when his gaze met a pair of iceberg-blue eyes from across the street.  Dean was completely taken by surprise.  After all, while people-watching you don’t usually expect the observed to be watching you, too.  Those eyes belonged to a man who was sitting on a sidewalk bench that faced Starbucks.  He was dressed in layers of worn clothing and a light film of dirt covered his face.  His brown knit cap matched the dirt on his face in a way that made it hard to distinguish his facial features.  Tucked beneath his right arm was an old blanket of some sort, which was a dead giveaway that this guy was homeless.

 

“What the…”  Dean muttered to himself, frowning from the sheer strangeness of the situation.  First of all, Dean wasn’t even sure if the man was actual staring at him specifically.  For all he knew the guy could just be zoning out.  Also, the windows of stores and restaurants in New York were usually not the easiest to see into from the outside, especially from a distance.

 

But there was something about that man’s gaze that sent a chill up Dean’s spine.  He felt inexplicably vulnerable, as if those blue eyes of his could pierce through everything between the two men and see directly into Dean’s soul.

 

A large charter bus came rumbling by, blocking Dean’s view of the man.  When his eyes returned to where he had had been sitting, the bench was instead occupied by a little old lady, her hands folded politely in her lap.  The man with the unnerving eyes was nowhere to be seen.

 

Dean gave a sigh of relief, downing the last bit of his cappuccino. 

 

“Friggin’ hobos, man.” 

 

While he wasn’t one to judge people, Dean couldn’t think of any way to explain what the hell had just happened, so he resorted to mindless categorization.  Still, that provided him with little comfort.  Those haunting azure eyes were permanently burned into his memory and that fact alone was quite unsettling.

 

Maybe that extra shot of espresso wasn’t such a good idea after all.

 

*

 

Dean’s work at the brokerage firm was surprisingly productive today, which of course put him in a better mood.  Two of his biggest clients had invested in stock for a new, quickly-rising company, which meant a larger paycheck in Dean’s pocket.  He could finally afford to buy that new TV and VCR he’d been eyeing.  Lisa would probably chastise him for wasting his money on something so trivial, but honestly he couldn’t care less.  As far as he was concerned: his money, his way.

 

Dean worked from eight to four and got home around four-thirty-five.  Even though he didn’t live far from his workplace, the afternoon rush hour was still killer and turned what would normally be a ten-minute taxi drive into a twenty-minute subway ride and walk.  There was no way he would even _attempt_ a taxi at this time of day; he might as well walk the whole way home.

 

Not that the idea of walking a long distance was unappealing to Dean; he made it a habit to go jogging in Central Park every day after work.

 

Lisa wouldn’t be home for another good hour or so; she didn’t get off work until five and her workplace was a bit farther away than his.  So, like usual Dean was alone in the apartment as he slipped out of his work clothes and into something more comfortable.  He ended up in a pair of black sweatpants with a gray hooded sweatshirt for good measure; it was nearing the end of fall, so the infamous chill of New York was making itself known.  After he had filled up his water bottle Dean left his apartment, jogged down the flight of stairs and exited the apartment building.

 

* 

 

Dean emerged from the subway exit, the crisp air hitting his skin almost immediately.  He scrunched up his face in response, pulling the sweatshirt hood over his head.  If there was one thing about New York he had to complain about, it was the cold.  Thankfully, it wasn’t raining today; cold rain was the worst kind of weather in his book.

 

A few minutes later, Dean was already across the street in Central Park, his feet clopping against the ground as he jogged along the path.  Aside from the cold, it was actually a beautiful day: clear blue skies with not a single cloud in sight.  The sunlight filtered down from the tree canopy in a way that cast perfectly sculpted leaf-pattern shadows and he felt the light flicker against his face as he jogged over the shadow-patched ground.

 

Rounding a corner, Dean at first was only vaguely aware that someone was sitting on the grass alongside the pathway.  However, as he grew closer to the person he finally recognized who the man was.

 

Dean instinctively slowed to a halt, cursing under his breath.  Sitting cross-legged to the side of the walkway was the same homeless man from that morning.  The man who he swore was having a staring contest with him earlier when he was at Starbucks.

 

The last thing Dean wanted was to interact with this guy.  He should probably be walking away right now…so why wasn’t he?

 

Dean must have been staring, because the man twisted his head to the side and upward to return his gaze, a hint of mild confusion in his eyes.  Dean inhaled sharply, his heart rate quickening from the man’s icy-blue stare.  It made his skin crawl, as if his privacy was being invaded, which was ironic since Dean was probably the actual offender in this increasingly awkward situation.

 

The man’s chapped lips parted, revealing rows of surprisingly white teeth.

 

“Can I help you?”

 

Dean faltered at the sound of the man’s gravelly voice, but found himself unable to break their eye contact.

 

“Uh, yeah…why the hell were you staring at me this morning?”  Dean realized a bit too late that his tone sounded a tad too confrontational, but he figured that he might as well roll with it.  He wasn’t one to easily admit his mistakes.

 

The man frowned, tilting his head to the side.  His actions were almost doglike.

 

“What do you mean?  I’ve never seen you before.”

 

That’s when Dean realized his big mistake.  This poor guy was just minding his own business that morning outside the Starbucks.  Of course he couldn’t see Dean: the windows to the restaurant were not only tinted, but the man had been sitting all the way across the street.

 

And now Dean felt like a total asshole.

 

“Ahh shit, man, I’m sorry…”  Dean replied, scratching the back of his neck with embarrassment.  He didn’t know what else to say; his pride was already damaged enough.  The man smiled, though, so he seemed to have accepted Dean’s short apology.

 

“This was obviously some sort of misunderstanding.  No worries.”

 

Thankfully the majority of the tension had evaporated by now, and it wasn’t until then that Dean noticed the bread in the man’s grasp.  He figured that asking about it would take the conversation in a more casual direction.

 

“So what’s the bread for?”

                                                                                                                                                                          

“I’m feeding the ducks.  The flock here acts like a little family; they’re very cute.”

 

“Oh, so…it’s not for you?”

 

The man shakes his head and smirks.

 

“No.  Well, it was intended for me, but I like to feed the ducks.”

 

Dean didn’t entirely understand why the man was feeding ducks instead of himself, him being homeless and all, but he did find it somehow endearing.  A faint smile tugged at the corners of Dean’s mouth, and so he feigned a cough to cover it up.

 

“Hm.  Well, I should probably be going…”  Reconsidering his options, Dean decided that it was probably the polite thing to tell the guy his name.  “I’m Dean, by the way.”

 

“I am Castiel.  Nice to meet you, Dean.”  Castiel smiled again, and it was obvious that he was grateful for the friendly interaction.  Dean observed that although Castiel’s lips were only lightly shaped into a smile, his eyes were so emissive that they ended up conveying his true happiness much more accurately.

 

Actually, under his whole raggedy getup, Castiel was probably a really handsome guy.

 

“…Dean, shouldn’t you ‘probably be going’ now?”  Castiel’s facial expression remained the same, but there was a barely noticeable joking lilt in his voice as he spoke.

 

Fuck, Dean had been staring at him again.

 

“Haha, yeah, uh…see ya ‘round, Cas.”  Dean didn’t waste any time jogging away from his new acquaintance, mentally beating himself up for acting like a complete moron.  What was he thinking?  Cas was just some random homeless guy, nothing out of the ordinary in NYC…

 

That’s when Dean realized that he had already given the guy a nickname.  _Cas_ , like they’ve been friends for the whole frickin’ year.  And they had just met _today_.

 

“Son of a bitch!”

 

*

 

“Lisa, I’m back from my jog!”  Dean tugged his sweatshirt off of his body, tossing it onto the back of the couch as he strolled into the living room.   “Lisa?”  After a brief search around the apartment, Dean found her sitting at the kitchen table on her laptop.  Her brow was furrowed in concentration.

 

“Hey, Baby.”  Smirking mischievously, Dean snuck behind her and wrapped his arms around her neck, nuzzling her dark hair.  He’d be lying if he said that he wasn’t thinking with his “other” head right now.

 

Instead of getting the positive reaction that he wanted, Dean felt Lisa tense beneath him and begin to worm her way out of his hold.

 

“Dean, not now, I still have work to do.  This case won’t study itself.”  Her voice sounded tired; must’ve been a hard day in the office.

 

Dean sighed, letting go of his girlfriend and putting his hands on his hips indignantly.

 

“But it’s been a week since we last—" He was cut off by the exasperated look that Lisa flashed him over her shoulder.  Seems like Dean wasn’t getting any tonight, either.  Groaning, Dean dragged his feet to the couch and then plopped down with a huff.  He was pouting like a little kid, but he convinced himself it was for a good reason.

 

Dean flipped the TV on, but after channel surfing for a while he gave up and dropped the remote in defeat.  Nothing good was on.  Instead, Dean contented himself to dwelling on his own thoughts for a moment.

 

A nagging notion was itching at the back of his mind and Dean had been aware of it for some time.  He and Lisa had been gradually growing apart; it started out with fewer dates, then more arguments and now less sex.  At first Dean had assumed that this was what happens to couples who’ve been dating for a long time and that they’d just have to adjust.  But, they were wanting to spend less and less time around each other and that suggested otherwise to Dean.

 

He had honestly forgotten what it was like to be single and he hoped that he wouldn’t have to find out any time soon.

 

Dean shook his head.  Enough with the depressing thoughts, they were hampering his good mood.

 

He started to recall the strange events from earlier that day, and immediately Castiel’s crystal-blue eyes came to mind.  How filled with emotion they were; how Cas could express his happiness solely with the sparkle in his eyes.  And above all how _wise_ they seemed, as if they were able to notice details normally invisible to humans.  Maybe that’s why Dean felt so vulnerable under his gaze; because Cas was looking at him as if he already knew everything there was to know about him.

 

It made him wonder what a man would have to go through to get that kind of look in his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Artwork by my lovely friend Steffi, a.k.a. tumblr artist diminuel. Go send her some love for this beautiful drawing!


	2. I Can See Things So Clear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean continued to ponder everything even after Cas had left the soup kitchen. However, he couldn’t come to a satisfying conclusion. There must be some deeply personal reason behind Cas’ actions…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I APOLOGIZE PROFUSELY!!! I know this chapter is super-duper late, but I can explain xS I've been in Spain studying abroad since June 26th, and I'm not back in the US until July 28th. It's been very demanding of my time to do everything I need/want to do here. I had this chapter ready last Saturday, but my editor has been on vacation for the week and couldn't get to this until today. So yeah, double whammy xP For some reason I find this chapter icky, but my editor liked it so that's probably just my perfectionism talking. This chapter is definitely longer than the first, though (like I promised)! As always, PLEASEPLEASEPLEASE comment! I will most likely be able to respond to all of them with some level of gratitude :)
> 
> The asterisks (*) stand for scene changes/time skips.

Seeing Cas in Central Park quickly became a part of Dean’s daily routine.  He would always be in the same spot next to the walkway when Dean came jogging through.  They didn’t interact much--just an occasional wave and maybe a smile of acknowledgement, but that was sufficient for the both of them.

 

As autumn approached, Cas’ flock of ducks left New York to fly south for the winter.  Despite this, Dean would still find Cas sitting complacently on the ground near the pond, just staring off into the distance; his face held that same empty expression from the first time he had saw him outside the Starbucks. He sure wished that he could figure out what was going through Cas’ head. 

 

*

 

“Merry Christmas!”  Dean flashed one of his trademark charming smiles to the woman standing across the serving table from him as he filled her bowl with beef and vegetable stew.  She smiled wearily in response, nodding as a thank you before leaving to find a seat in the makeshift cafeteria.

 

The winter solstice was coming in only a few days and it was getting closer and closer to Christmas.  Dean made it a habit to volunteer this time every year at his church’s soup kitchen.  It was a holiday of giving, after all, and this was his way of giving back to the community.  Plus, Dean didn’t exactly have the easiest of childhoods, so he felt driven to help out people in need.  It gave him a warm feeling to know that his efforts made someone else’s life a little bit easier.

 

Okay, now he was getting all sappy.  Enough of that shit.

 

Dean grumbled to himself, his cheeks rosy with sudden embarrassment as he served another bowl.  Good thing Sam wasn’t here to see this; he would’ve made such a scene over his big brother doing something simply out of the kindness of his heart.  Although he was relieved not to have to deal with his brother’s ridicule, Dean still missed the moose.  They’ve been seeing less of each other now that Sam was living with Jess.  Good thing it was Christmastime; he’d be getting together Sam and Jess real soon.

 

“…Hello, Dean.”

 

Dean blinked, his expression lightening substantially because of the man standing in front of him.  “Cas!  Hey Man, how’s it going?”  He was glad to see at least one person that he recognized here.

 

“Nothing out of the ordinary.  Merry Christmas.”  A soft smile graced Cas’ lips that made him feel weird, in a not completely unpleasant way.

 

Wait, what.  That did _not_ just happen.

 

“…Merry Christmas, Buddy.”  After the brief pause in the conversation, Dean returned Cas’ smile and good wishes, dipping his ladle into the large vat of stew.  Winking lightheartedly, he poured a little extra into Cas’ waiting bowl.  “Our little secret, ‘kay?”

 

Cas nodded in response, his eyes twinkling with appreciation.  “Thank you, Dean.”  He then left the food line, sitting down next to an elderly man at one of the tables.

 

After serving several more people, Dean realized that he still had a stupid smile plastered on his face and with this awkward realization, his smile was instantly replaced with a look of mild concern.  What was going on with him lately?  He was turning into a big mush, which was _so_ not like him.

 

His gaze happened to flicker up to where Cas was sitting when he witnessed something that he found truly baffling.  Cas was sliding his bowl over to the elderly man next to him; it looked like half of his stew was still in the bowl.  The man accepted it without a word, contenting himself with finishing off Cas’ meal.  And Cas looked _happy_ about it.  Immediately, Dean was reminded of how Cas had fed those ducks his own bread that day in the park.  All of this made little sense to him.  Cas looked to be in his late twenties or early thirties, and as few and far between as his meals came, he should be hungry as hell.

 

Dean continued to ponder everything even after Cas had left the soup kitchen.  However, he couldn’t come to a satisfying conclusion.  There must be some deeply personal reason behind Cas’ actions…

 

What the hell?!  Dean literally facepalmed in the middle of working, earning a curious look from the people in line and his coworkers.  Cas’ life was none of his business.  He shouldn’t care what Cas did or didn’t do.

 

Yet, there was a nameless feeling prodding at Dean from the inside and all he knew was that it had something to do with Cas.

 

*

 

At the end of the evening, Dean was wiping off tabletops when he came across the hat.  By now, everyone had left and the volunteers were cleaning up, so the hat was obviously left behind by someone.  He was just about to pick it up and toss it into the lost-and-found when he recognized that it was Cas’ hat; that brown knit one he was always wearing.  Dean should’ve been wary of touching some random guy’s hat, but nope; he scooped it off the table without a second thought.  In the background, “Jingle Bell Rock” played, accompanied by the clanging of dirty dishes and silverware.

 

“That belong to your friend from earlier?”

 

Dean jumped a little, spinning around to face the woman who just spoke.  She went to church with him, but besides that Dean had no idea who she was.

 

“Uh, yeah, he must’ve left it behind…”  He stared at the hat in his hand, absentmindedly brushing his thumb across the soft wool.

 

The woman grinned, her round face giving her a jolly appearance.  “Well, I’m sure he’d be glad to know that you found it for him.”

 

Dean smirked, an idea coming to mind.  “Yeah…he would, wouldn’t he?”

 

*

 

The next day, Dean made preparations for what he hoped would be a meeting with Cas in Central Park, making sure to carry the hat with him for his daily jog.  Actually, once it reached this time of year Dean usually didn’t jog much; it was more of just a walk to get outside and enjoy the fresh, chilly air.

 

Today he found Cas sitting on a wooden bench beside the walkway instead of on the ground.  Dean approached him, waving in his usual awkward way.

 

“Hey, Cas!”  Dean chirped.  He didn’t exactly know why, but Cas’ presence just seemed to automatically improve his mood.  He shifted his weight so that he was leaning mostly on one leg, his right hip slightly jutting out to the side.  His hands were shoved deep into his coat pockets to keep warm and his fingers gently grasped at the soft woolen hat.  Cas tilted his head, probably out of curiosity as to why Dean was being so social with him lately.

 

“Hello, Dean,” He replied, absentmindedly improving his sitting posture, “How has your day been?”  His voice was rather monotone, Dean noted, but not in a negative way.  It seemed sort of fitting for his personality.

 

“Alright, I guess,” Dean removed the knit hat from his coat pocket, holding it out for Cas to take.  “You, uh…left this behind last night.”  He watched as Cas’ face lit up at the sight of the hat, reaching forward to take it from Dean.

 

Their fingertips brushed as the exchange was made, leaving a tingling sensation on Dean’s skin.  It was strange…but nice.

 

“Oh, Dean…”  Cas was running his fingers over the brown wool of the hat, a look of fondness plastered on his face.  After a few seconds of silence had passed, he looked back at the freckled man standing before him, his eyes expressing levels of gratitude that honestly made Dean slightly uncomfortable.  “…Thank you.”  Dean flashed a nervous smile in response, unsure of what to do next.  Cas, noticing his discomfort, looked down at the vacant spot on the bench and then back to Dean.  “Would you like to join me?”

 

Nodding gratefully, Dean sat down next to Cas, the wood creaking beneath the combined weight of the two men.  Thankfully, some of the tension between them had evaporated by now.  Turning his head, Dean studied the adoring look that Cas gave his hat.  He figured asking about it wouldn’t hurt; the old thing obviously held significant value for the brunet…

 

Wait a sec, Dean had never seen Cas with his hat off before.  He was actually surprised that he didn’t realize it until now.  His hair was dark brown like his beard, which made the blue in his eyes pop all the more.  It was a little matted, but short enough so that it wasn’t too obvious.  A few stray strands had fallen out of place and over his forehead, and…

 

Dean lifted his hand, carefully brushing the strands of hair out of Cas’ face.

 

…Oh shit.

 

Cas looked up from his hat, frowning with apparent confusion and surprise from the physical contact.  “Um…Dean?...”

 

Dean’s face flushed a deep pink and he had to look away from Cas in embarrassment.  Great, now he was losing control over his own body and he didn’t even understand _why_ this was all happening in the first place.

 

“S-sorry, Cas,” Dean apologized, rubbing the back of his neck.  “Forget what just happened.  I’m not thinking straight today…”  He chose to ignore the double entendre that he just made.

 

Cas studied him for a bit with those seemingly all-knowing eyes of his before shaking his head.  “It’s fine.  No need to apologize.”  He pulled the hat back on his head and it was if all was normal once again.  But it wasn’t and would never be.  What Dean didn’t realize at the time was that his actions had sent a chain of life-changing events into motion, and there was no going back.  A slippery slope of fate.

 

Shifting on the bench, Dean scrambled to change the subject to something else.  Getting to know Cas better was probably a good start.  “So, Cas, what’s your story, man?”  He noticed Cas tense up and immediately regretted asking.  “Uh, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t wanna…”  He understood that the backstory of someone like Cas was probably a touchy subject for just casual conversation.

 

“…No, I’ll tell you,” Cas said in response, his eyes dropping to the lower-left part of his vision.  People usually did this when they were deep in thought; Dean remembered reading that somewhere, probably on the internet.  “But I am afraid my ‘story’ is not exactly a fairytale.”

 

Dean chuckled sadly.  “You and me both, Cas.”  To further encourage the other man, Dean gently patted him on the shoulder.  “Trust me, God knows I’m not one to judge.”  He felt Cas’ shoulder relax beneath his hand, which was a good sign.

 

“…Okay.”  Taking a deep breath, Cas sighed before beginning with his life’s tale.

 

“I grew up in the mountains in a town called Inlet.  It’s a little town, and by little I mean literally everyone knows each other there.”  Cas swallowed slowly, his Adam’s apple bobbing on his throat.  “I left from home as soon as I turned eighteen.  I was tired of living there; it’s kind of one of those places that people tend to get stuck in.  Plus my mother had these plans for me that…well, I didn’t approve of.” 

 

Dean looked at him questioningly at the mention of his last statement, but Cas avoided his eyes.  This persuaded Dean to choose not to prod about his mother and to just listen.  Cas took a few moments to recompose himself and then continued.

 

“My brother helped get me part of the way here, driving me until I could catch a bus.  I wanted him to come with me, and part of me thinks he wanted to…But he was too attached to Inlet to leave.  Another person trapped there for no good reason.”  This time Cas looked at Dean while he spoke, his eyes conveying an unspoken sadness.  “Long story short, New York City didn’t work out for me like I had hoped.  One thing led to the next, and then this,” Cas gestured to his worn clothing, “Is where I ended up.”

 

Dean opened his mouth with the intentions of speaking, but couldn’t think of anything worth saying.  “Sorry” didn’t seem appropriate enough, so he chose to close his mouth instead and wait for Cas to speak up again.

 

Cas must have noticed Dean’s loss for words, because he seemed to scramble for a moment to keep the conversation flowing.  “But, uh, enough about me.  What about you?”  He looked at Dean expectantly, hands clasped in his lap.

 

Dean was thankful for the initiative to speak and cleared his throat before responding.  “Well, there’s not much super interesting about me.”  He blew a short burst of air through his closed lips, causing them to vibrate briefly.  “My mom died when I was four in a house fire.  Dad and I loved her a lot, but my baby brother—Sam’s his name—was too young to remember her…”

 

“I’m sure he would have loved her, too,” Cas interjected, his gaze sympathetic.  Dean nodded with a weak smile, and then continued.

 

“Her death devastated my dad.  He never was the same after that day…But I suppose none of us really were.  He became distant and coldhearted, a real dick.”  Dean ran a hand through his light-brown hair, staring at the ground.  “I practically had to raise Sammy on my own.  I grew up way faster than any kid should have to…But what can ya do with no mom and a deadbeat dad?”  He shrugged.  “Course there was always Bobby…he was more of a dad than our actual father ever was.”

 

Cas tilted his head to the side again curiously.  “You loved Bobby?”

 

Dean smirked.  “Yeah, Sam and I both loved him.  We still do.  When I was sixteen he had me work as a mechanic at his workshop so I could pay for Sammy to go to college.”

 

“That was very kind of him, and…kind of you, too.”

 

Dean looked back up when Cas spoke, studying the blue-eyed man.  “…I guess.”  A few seconds passed where the two men just stared at each other before Dean began to speak again.  “We both graduated high school, but Sam was the only one to go off to college.  Not enough money for the both of us.”

 

Cas frowned.  “But you seem to be doing quite well.”

 

“Yeah, well I did some research a couple years after graduation and found out I could take this test to be a broker.  Wasn’t what I had in mind for a dream job, but it paid well so I figured why the hell not.  Good thing I was smart with math and numbers, ‘cause that’s pretty much what the whole test was about.”  Dean leaned back in the bench, resting his elbows on the backboard.  “I passed the exam and moved here to find a job, to start my own life; y’know, all that jazz.”  He grinned at Cas.  “So there you have it, the life and times of Dean Winchester.”

 

Cas smiled back.  “You have quite the inspiring story, Dean Winchester.”

 

Dean squirmed hearing Cas say his full name, his cheeks pink from the flattery.  “Nah, I just did what I could.  I’m nothing special—”

 

He was cut off by Cas, who had slapped his hand against Dean’s arm and was now firmly gripping his bicep.  His face was stern, eyes like two azure drills.  Dean’s pupils grew large with surprise at the man’s sudden actions.

 

“No, Dean,” Cas gently shook his arm to emphasize his words, “Despite your father’s shortcomings, you made sure that Sam lived a normal life.  You sacrificed your own interests to send him to college, and yet you still managed to take care of yourself.”  Cas’ stern expression melted away, his seemingly omniscient gaze returning once more along with that soft smile of his.  “You’re more remarkable than any man I’ve ever known.”

 

“…”

 

Gawking at Cas, Dean felt his mouth fall open with shock.  He was completely speechless, and frankly felt like he was brain-dead, too.

 

Cas must have realized what he had just said and done because his face quickly turned beet-red with an intense blush; it was the first blush Dean had seen on him.  Cas let go of Dean like a hot plate, crossing his arms over his chest and trying to look at anything but the man sitting next to him.

 

“I-I apologize, that was inappropriate of me to say those things.  Please forgive me…”  Cas was obviously uncomfortable, and Dean was…well, he honestly had no idea.  His brain was still trying to process the last two minutes without spontaneously combusting inside his head.

 

Rather than openly acknowledge Castiel’s apology, Dean sat in silence for a few minutes.  Both men were trying to distract themselves from the awkward situation by simply enjoying the peace and quiet of Central Park.  A gust of wind blew through and Cas shivered from the frozen breeze, which reminded Dean of the second reason why he came to find Cas.

 

“Oh yeah!”  Dean reached into his pocket, pulling out a small wad of cash.  He looked at it for a second, and then held it out for the man to take.  “Uh…Merry Christmas, Buddy.”  Dean’s smile was genuine.  He figured that Cas could use the cash to get some new clothes and some food or something.

 

However, when Cas looked down at the money, instead of awarding Dean with an expression of happiness and gratitude like the man expected his eyes grew dark and his lips pursed sourly.  Barely a moment later his expression changed dramatically, his face now twisted up with apparent pain.  Dean, concerned, found himself leaning towards Cas on the bench.

 

“Cas…?”

 

“…I’m sorry, Dean, but I cannot accept your gift.”

 

“You…you can’t _accept_ it?”  Dean echoed, his voice increasing in volume out of frustration.  He shook the bills of money in front of Cas’ face angrily.  “Just take the damn money, Cas!  I’m trying to help!”  When Cas didn’t respond, Dean continued after a low growl. “I saw you give that old dude your food last night.  Don’t act like you didn’t need the extra I—”

 

Cas spun his head around, blue irises ablaze as he stared Dean down.  “I am not _worth_ your help, Dean!”  Seeing Dean’s resulting confusion he huffed impatiently.  “I cannot _trust_ myself with your money!”  He quit trying to bore into Dean’s head with his eyes and was now searching for any sign of realization on the man’s freckled face.  “...Do you understand?”

 

Slowly but surely, Dean began to see what Cas was hinting at.  It must’ve shown on his face because Cas had to look away, his expression uncomfortable and embarrassed.

 

“Oh God, Cas, I’m sorry…I…I didn’t know…”  Dean lifted his hand as if to make physical contact, but let it fall back down to his side after he couldn’t decide what to do with it.

 

Cas smirked, shaking his head solemnly.  “There’s a lot about me you still don’t know, Dean.  For example,” Cas stood up from the bench and then gestured to Dean’s stack of dollars, “If I had accepted your gift, it would’ve gone to waste on cheap wine.”  He turned his back to Dean, face emotionless but eyes ever-emissive.  “I’m afraid I must leave now.  See you another time, Dean.”

 

Dean was left there sitting on the bench, staring at the money he held limply in his cold fingers.  What was meant to be a heartfelt gift for Cas would have done nothing but feed into this curse of his.  Dean knew all too well that alcoholism was not something to take lightly; there were many a night when his father would come home wasted almost beyond recognition.  It had taken its toll on their entire family.

 

Although technically none of what had just happened with Cas was his fault, Dean still felt like total shit.

 

*

 

When he arrived home later that evening, Dean was deep in thought.  About Cas, of course.  He couldn’t seem to get the guy off his mind. The little things that happened between them at the park, Cas revealing his alcoholism to Dean; it was all so strangely intimate and he felt like something had to be done about it. 

 

For Cas’ sake, Dean wanted to give him a meaningful Christmas present, something that he could benefit from.  This is how he found himself on the computer soon after entering his apartment, browsing the internet for any good ideas because honestly, he had none himself.

 

He was so engrossed in his research that Dean didn’t even notice Lisa until she had pulled up a chair beside him.  She smiled warmly and he returned it half-heartedly.  “What’re you up to, Dean?”  She asked with obvious curiosity in her voice.

 

“I’m looking for a gift for a friend.”  Turning back to the computer screen, he furrowed his brow.  “Not having much luck, though.  He’s kind of hard to shop for.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“…Well, he has some…issues,” Dean pinched the bridge of his nose, attempting to rid himself of his sinus headache.

 

Lisa stayed quiet for a few moments before she spoke again.  She seemed to be studying him for some reason.  “…Have you thought about helping him with these issues?”  Dean quickly turned his head to look at her in the eye, squinting with uncertainty.

 

“Honestly, no…”  Finally a decent idea coming to mind, Dean’s face lit up considerably.  “But that’s an awesome idea!”  He leaned forward and pecked Lisa on the lips, practically brimming with gratitude.  “Thanks babe, I owe you one.”

 

Lisa winked in response, standing up from her seat.  "How 'bout I go grab us some pizza for dinner?”

 

Dean nodded, returning to his research with a mission.  He opened a Google search bar and typed: _NYC Alcoholic Therapy_.

 

*

 

Just before leaving the apartment, Lisa checked back in on her boyfriend.  She watched him working with a passion that she hadn’t seen in him for a long time and decided against interrupting him. 

 

The dark-haired woman sighed, her face gloomy as she muttered to herself.

 

“You used to get that way around me…”

 

She creeped out the door and closed it behind her quietly.

 

*

 

“…Cas?”

 

The bearded man looked up from his hands to stare at Dean, his eyes red-rimmed and tired.  Dean smiled halfheartedly, trying not to think about what Castiel had been up to the night before.

 

“Hello, Dean.”  Shifting on the bench, Cas tilted his head to the side like he usually did when not understanding something completely.  “I’m honestly surprised you still want to talk to me.”

 

“Yeah?  Well I guess I’m just a good friend, then.”

 

“You are.” Cas replied, his lips twitching with what Dean thought might have been the faintest of smiles.

 

“Thanks…uh, anyway, I got you something else for Christmas instead.”  Dean took his hand out of his pocket to present a folded-up sheet of printer paper.  “I hope you like this one.”

 

Cas reached out hesitantly and grasped the paper, unfolding it slowly with both hands.  His eyes began to scan through the paper’s contents, and Dean watched as his expression grew more and more disbelieving.  Once finished, Cas placed the sheet face down on his lap, his blue eyes wide.  Dean could see that he was speechless, so the freckled man decided to talk first.

 

“I figured you couldn’t afford therapy sessions yourself, so…Merry Christmas, Cas.”  He grinned, glad to be able to help the guy out.

 

“…Dean…”  Was all Cas could bring himself to say, but he didn’t need to say anything else.  His watery eyes spoke a thousand unspoken words, all understood by Dean.

 

A surge of warmth pulsed through Dean as he made his reply.

 

“You’re welcome, Buddy.”

 

*

 

Dean came home to find Lisa sitting on the living room couch, her hands clasped thoughtfully under her chin.  While this alone would have been nothing out of the ordinary, what made his heart sink was her expression.  Her face was puffy and eyes pink, signs of crying, and she was staring sharp daggers into Dean.  Which meant that this had something to do with him.

 

He opened his mouth to speak, but was silenced by his girlfriend’s stare.

 

“…I found lingerie in your laundry, Dean.”

 

  
_Fuck_.

 

“I-I can explain…”

 

“ _Please_ do, Dean, I’m _all_ ears,” Lisa replied angrily, standing up suddenly from the couch.  Her fists were clenched tightly at her side, the knuckles white with tension, “Did you sleep with another woman?”

 

Dean blinked, his mouth agape at the accusation.  “N-no, no!  Dammit, Lisa, I would never—“

 

“Then why the HELL are there pink, frilly panties in with your dirty clothes,” She paused for a moment, newfound tears welling up in her eyes, “ _ **With white stains**_?!?”

 

Running a hand through his hair, Dean struggled to coherently answer his girlfriend.  “I…well, you see…”

 

“See?!  You can’t even deny it any—”

 

“They’re mine.”

 

Lisa froze, her expression unreadable.  “…Come again?”

 

The hand that Dean had in his hair dragged down to rub against his face.  He had never been so embarrassed before in his entire life.

 

“They’re mine, okay?  I wear them sometimes when I need to whack one out...”  At this point, Dean was trying to look everywhere in the room but at Lisa.  This was his personal shit, no one was ever supposed to find out about it.

 

“…Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

 

Dean would have looked back at Lisa, but his eyes were instead locked on Lisa’s large suitcase by the door.  How had he missed it on the way in?

 

“…This has something to do with that ‘friend’ of yours, doesn’t it?”

 

Dean opened his mouth, but found no words to speak.  What else could he say?  He was way in over his head already.  She wouldn’t believe him if he told her that Cas was just some homeless guy he wanted to help out, nothing more.  And honestly he couldn’t blame her, because he wasn’t sure if he would have even believed himself in this situation.

 

Lisa nodded, inhaling and exhaling deeply before continuing.   “I’ll be back for the rest of my stuff later.”  She began to walk toward Dean, who was still standing by the doorway.

 

“…Don’t leave…”  Dean managed, his voice uncharacteristically needy.  _Pleading_.

 

Lisa paused, only a few feet away from him.  He could feel her dark eyes on him like hot coals pressed against his skin.  “Don’t let me.”

 

But he can’t move.  He can’t bring himself to stop her as she grabbed her suitcase.  He couldn’t lift his feet to run after her as she left the apartment behind.  He couldn’t do anything because truthfully, she had already left him a long time ago.

 

She was gone, and now Dean was alone.

 

*

 

The next morning, Dean woke up to an empty house.  There wasn’t a comforting smell of bacon wafting in from the kitchen, and the spot next to him in bed was cold.  He got up without a single grunt or groan.

 

He spent his day like he always did.  Breakfast at home, then Starbucks in the morning and then work afterwards.  Of all times, Dean could NOT ruin his routine now.  It was the only thing holding him together, the only thing to distract him from the pressing matter at hand.  He figured that if he could focus on sticking to his daily routine, then he could forget and the pain would be numbed. 

 

He despised having to confront his emotions; it made him feel weak and vulnerable, two things that Dean was definitely not used to feeling.  In his mind, “new” often translated to “uncomfortable”.

 

This is why Dean found himself majorly conflicted as he stood outside his usual entrance to Central Park that afternoon.  Taking his walk would mean chancing an encounter with Cas, who would most likely see straight through Dean’s cool facade.  Not going on a walk meant breaking his routine.  He was damned if he did, and damned if he didn’t.

 

So eventually he figured he’d just try to avoid coming across Cas.  That was his plan anyway as he began his trek down the park’s pathway.

 

It was snowing, finally; Dean was hoping it would be a white Christmas this year.  As more good news, Sam and Jess were arriving tomorrow which was the day before Christmas Eve.  Dean tried to convince himself that everything was going to be wonderful, that he didn’t have a care in the world.  And he was starting to believe that it was working.

 

“…Hello, Dean.”

 

He froze in the middle of his walk upon hearing the man’s signature greeting, but soon after, started walking down the path again.

 

  
_Not now_.

 

“…Dean?”  Cas called after him, and Dean could hear his shoes crunching in the snow behind him.  He picked up his pace in response.

 

  
_Oh God, please, not now_.

 

“Dean!”  The green-eyed man found his path being abruptly blocked by the guy he had been trying to avoid this entire time and stumbled awkwardly as to not crash into him.  Dean swallowed hard, preparing himself to put on a convincing show as he flashed Cas a bright smile.

 

“Hey, Cas!  What’s up?”

 

Cas’ expression was warm when he replied; Dean's facade must have been working.

 

“I attended the first meeting with my therapist today.”

 

“And?”

 

“I love it, Dean.  Thank you for being such a good friend to me.”

 

“…You’re welcome, Cas.”

 

Almost immediately, Cas’ eyes went from glad to concerned, his brow knitting together.  “Dean…is everything alright?”

 

“Yeah!”  Dean replied quickly, mentally cursing himself a second later as he realized that his response sounded far too cheery.  There was no way Cas didn’t notice.

 

“Dean…” Cas reached forward, placing a hand on his arm.  His touch was gentle and caring, and it was most likely because of this that Dean snapped.  All the pain from yesterday that he had been holding at bay came flooding through his protective wall, and he couldn’t restrain himself any longer.  He began to feel every negative emotion that was welled-up inside of him and it was almost unbearable.

 

Dean didn’t even realize he was crying until a tear dropped from his chin to the ground.  He tried to say something, but all he could manage was a choking sob that forced its way out of his mouth.  This sob triggered another, and before Dean was even aware of what was happening he was embracing the man in front of him, weeping into his shoulder like a damn baby.  This was completely out of character for him.  Dean didn’t cry, he was too manly for that, too hardened.  Yet there he was, sobbing uncontrollably into the shoulder of a homeless man that he had happened to befriend.

 

His chest heaving, Dean’s fingers grasped desperately at the back of Cas’ coat.  “Lisa…she’s gone…”  He moaned, arms wrapping tightly around Cas’ torso as if holding on for dear life--Which he might as well have been doing because at this moment the only person in the world who Dean felt he could confide in was Cas.

 

And again, he didn’t know why.

 

Obviously taken by surprise, Cas’ eyes were wide with shock as he felt the other man’s tears wet his shoulder.  He had no idea what was upsetting Dean; all he knew was a woman named Lisa had something to do with his distress.  Nevertheless, he brought his hand up and began to stroke the back of Dean’s head, lightly and hesitantly, but still heartfelt. 

 

Cas couldn’t believe it.  He was holding his hero in his arms, the seemingly random stranger who ended up doing everything within his power to help Cas onto a path to sobriety.  Cas was in a time of need and Dean was the hand that pulled him out of the dark.  Now it was his turn to return the favor; he was more than happy to try, anyway.

 

“…I’m here, Dean.  You are not alone.”


	3. And So It Seems That We're All Out of Touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Good morning, welcome to Starbucks. What would you like to…” Castiel lost his train of thought as soon as he focused on the man standing across the counter from him. “…Order…?” He gawked openly, emerald eyes and familiar freckles staring right back at him.
> 
> “I’ll take a grande cappuccino, handsome.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really have no good excuse for being this late with the chapter. Lack of motivation I guess? Idk. Well anyway, comments mean a lot to me so if you could leave one I would be soooo grateful.
> 
> The asterisks (*) stand for scene changes/time skips.

He didn’t see Dean again after that day in the park, not for almost an entire year.  It was ironic how he had told Dean that he wouldn’t be alone and now Castiel was the one left completely by himself.

 

At first, Castiel had waited for Dean.  Maybe Dean was just worked up from his breakup with Lisa and needed to cool down for a few days.  But after a week had passed and he still hadn’t shown up in the park yet, Castiel began to have his doubts.  Was it something he had said?  He _did_ promise that he was there for Dean if he was ever needed.  Did Castiel overestimate their friendship?  Wouldn’t be the first time if that was the case.

 

Eventually it was evident that no matter what the reason might have been, Dean wasn’t showing his face around Central Park anymore.  Or at least around Castiel.  And that hurt, because Dean was Castiel’s only friend, be the feelings unreciprocated or not.

 

December 15, 1999 was like any other work day at Starbucks when Castiel finally saw Dean again.  Usually he worked in the back, mixing drinks and dealing with supplies, but today they had decided to put him up front at the cash register, which was a strange decision on his employer’s part because Castiel wasn’t exactly a people person; most of his coworkers had already acknowledged his social awkwardness and just let him be.  Not that he minded really, because Castiel had always been introverted.  So, he found constantly having to interact with customers all morning to be quite uncomfortable.

 

“Th-that will be four ninety-seven,” Castiel announced to his current customer, his strained smile a little too forced to be convincing.

 

The woman eyed him strangely, handing over a five dollar bill.  Castiel scrambled to give her the change and receipt in return, hands shaking slightly.  She took them from him before quickly retreating to wait for her coffee at the adjoining counter.  Castiel sighed, somewhat disappointed with himself for obviously freaking the lady out.  His attention was elsewhere as he spoke robotically to the next customer in line.

 

“Good morning, welcome to Starbucks.  What would you like to…”  Castiel lost his train of thought as soon as he focused on the man standing across the counter from him.  “…Order…?”  He gawked openly at those emerald eyes and familiar freckles staring back at him.

 

“I’ll take a grande cappuccino, handsome.”  Dean winked and Castiel could feel his face reddening already, although more out of frustration than anything else.  Who did Dean think he was, barging back into his life like this?  Was this some kind of sick joke?

 

“The name’s Dean, by the way.  Y’know, to write on the cup.”

 

Oh.

 

“…Hey, how come I haven’t seen you here before, huh?”

 

 _Oh_.

 

Castiel’s offended expression melted, his eyes holding back all the sadness that he dared not convey on his face.  “This is my first time working the cash register.”  He kept his voice as deadpan and emotionless as possible.

 

Dean didn’t recognize Castiel.  He had been forgotten.

 

…Uh, not that Castiel was _surprised_ or anything.  After all, they were just friendly acquaintances before, nothing more.  And it had been an entire year since they had last seen each other, so it was only natural that Dean didn’t remember him.  He was just some random homeless man back then, nothing special…yeah, that was it.

 

Dean smirked, leaning forward on the counter – Castiel's internal battle kept screaming that he totally didn’t miss that smirk. Nope – And then, Dean batted his long eyelashes in a very unsubtle way.  “Shame,” He replied, the corners of his eyes crinkling with amusement.  “What’s your name?  Or should I just call you ‘Angel’?”

 

Castiel rolled his eyes with a small groan, holding out his hand expectantly.  “Your ridiculous attempts at pick-up lines will get you nowhere with me.  Now pay up, I have other customers to serve.”

 

Dean obviously didn’t expect that reaction from Castiel because his eyebrows knitted together in a frown, his freckles standing out against the faint blush spreading across his face.  Dean stood up straight and took a small step back while rubbing his neck awkwardly.  “Pssshh, whatever floats your boat, Asshole.  Your loss.”

 

Although Castiel knew that Dean’s words were only a poor attempt to deflect his rejection – Castiel assumed that he must not get rejected very often – they still stung a bit.  Huffing, Castiel snatched the money Dean handed him and then gave the man his change and receipt.  “Good day,”  He snapped, “Now please move aside.”  Castiel watched with squinting eyes as Dean grumbled, shuffling away to wait for his coffee.  He looked like a dejected dog.

 

At one point Dean chanced a glance back at Castiel.  His eyes immediately grew wide and his face erupted into a wide wolfish grin, causing a brief wave of panic to rush though Castiel.   Had Dean suddenly recognized him?

 

Castiel instinctually brought his hand up to touch his lips, and his panic was swiftly quelled.  His mouth had been curved upward in a small smile that was contrasting the scrutinizing gaze he was giving Dean.  Castiel shook his head, exasperated but nonetheless slightly amused.  Great, now Dean thinks he has a chance to bang the cute Starbucks barista.

_Totally_ wasn’t going to happen, though. 

 

Not a chance in the world.

 

…Nope.

 

*

 

It wasn’t like Castiel spent the rest of the day at work thinking about Dean.  That would just be pathetic.

 

It was nearing the end of his shift and things were slow at this time of day.  Castiel sighed out of boredom and leaned his weight against the counter.  Just a few more minutes until he could go home to sort through this mess in his head, which will undoubtedly be a painful task.  No thanks to a certain assbutt named Dean Winchester.

 

…hole.  Ass _hole_.  Cursing didn’t exactly come natural to Castiel, unlike Dea– GOD, could he just stop thinking about the guy for _two measly seconds_??

 

“Look at you, hotshot!”

 

Castiel frowned, looking over his shoulder at the teenage boy standing to his left who had just spoken.  He had short black hair that looked like it was barely combed, and his almond-shaped eyes were turned upward amiably.  Castiel searched his mind for the teenager’s name; what was it again?  It began with a ‘K’: Kyle, Kurt…

 

“Kevin,” Castiel concluded, mentally giving himself a pat on the back for remembering, “What are you talking about?”  He was now facing the boy completely, his back to the door.  He was beginning to be grateful for the brief distraction from his own thoughts, until…

 

“I _mean_ that dude from this morning.  He was totally digging you, and it was kind of obvious you liked him, too.”  Kevin grinned at Castiel’s embarrassed and flustered reaction and waved a hand dismissively in the air.  “Everyone noticed, man.  It’s no biggie if you’re into guys.”

 

“Th-that’s none of your business!” Castiel retorted, voice faltering at the beginning of his sentence.  Now other people were starting to butt into his personal life?  Things just keep getting better and better, although at this point he was starting not to be surprised anymore.

 

Kevin shrugged, holding his hands up in mock surrender.  “Hey, I did you a favor,” A sly grin formed across his face, “Told him when you get off from work.”

 

Castiel’s body went completely rigid, his eyes widening with disbelief.  “You did _what_?"  He took a step forward, his expression hard and foreboding and for a brief moment he swore he saw panic flash across Kevin’s face.

 

The bell to the store entrance rung, shattering through the building tension in the room.

 

Kevin’s eyes glanced past Castiel toward the front of the store, but he quickly returned his gaze to the grown man in front of him.  Castiel was taller and more muscular than he was, presenting quite the threat to Kevin if the situation was aggravated any further.  He smiled nervously before speaking.  “H-Hey, speak of the devil…”

 

“Heya, Angel~”

 

Castiel squeezed his eyes shut, his face scrunching with discomfort.  This was bound to be an extremely uncomfortable conversation.  Taking a deep breath, he turned to face the freckled man.  Dean was leaning against the door to the Starbucks and had a smug look plastered on his face.

 

“Please do not call me that.”  Castiel replied smartly, unconsciously clenching and unclenching his fists.  Dean was the last person he wanted to deal with right now; he just wanted to go _home_.

 

Dean raised an eyebrow and snorted.  “Tell me your name and you’ve got yourself a deal.”

 

“I don’t have time for you,” Castiel replied, moving from his spot behind the counter to grab his things.   “My shift is over and I’m leaving now.”  He was probably being a total jerk right now, but he couldn’t care less at the moment.  He was tired, annoyed, and upset; _definitely_ not in the mood to be flirty.

 

Dean groaned, moving away from the door and closer to where Castiel was rummaging around with his belongings.  “Aw, don’t be like that, Angel.  I’m only trying to…”  He stopped walking and his speech trailed off, causing Castiel to look up from what he was doing.

 

Dean’s eyes were wide and his mouth slack with disbelief.  His body was completely still; even his chest wasn’t moving, which meant that he must be holding his breath.  What in the world could he be ogling like that?

 

Castiel finally understood when he noticed that Dean’s gaze was focused not on his face, but slightly above it.  He had just put on his favorite brown knit cap.  Suddenly the events of that day last year after the soup kitchen came flowing back to Castiel and he exhaled shakily, not realizing that he had been holding his breath as well.

 

The room was silent and filled with anticipation for what seemed like an eternity before anything else happened.  When it did, Castiel was still caught off-guard.

 

“…Cas?”

 

The dark-haired man nodded slowly, his eyes trained on Dean’s as he spoke.  “Hello, Dean.”

 

“H-holy…holy shit, man…”  Dean opened his mouth to continue, and then closed it before opening it once more.  He appeared to be at a loss for coherent words.  “How–”

 

“Don’t,” Castiel interjected, looking over his shoulder at Kevin.  He was still standing there behind the counter, obviously intrigued by their conversation.  “Not here.”  Kevin huffed at Castiel’s words, a little offended, and eventually walked away to give the two of them some privacy.  Castiel was grateful that Kevin had taken the hint.

 

“Then where?”

 

Castiel returned his attention to Dean, his mind rushing to find an answer.  “Um, I know this Mexican restaurant nearby.  We can catch-up there if you’d like?”

 

A soft smile curved the edges of Dean’s lips upward, making Castiel’s stomach do an interesting flip.  “I’d like that,” the taller man responded.  His shoulders relaxed visibly now that the tension had been lessened.

 

Castiel couldn’t help but smile back, which worried him.  He _shouldn’t_ be happy that Dean remembered him.  If anything, he should want to slug the guy in the face for being such a moron.  And yet Castiel found himself wanting to know _why_ Dean had disappeared and why he had been so kind to him before, and above all, why he made him feel so _happy_.

 

*

 

The walk to _La Casa Cocinera_ was long and awkward despite the restaurant only being a few blocks away from the Starbucks.  Their smalltalk was excruciatingly painful; Castiel couldn’t believe that they had been reduced to talking about the _weather_.  Seriously, who does that?  That’s cheesy romcom material right there.  It used to be so easy and natural to talk with Dean…not that he missed that.  Castiel was just making an observation.

 

In truth, Castiel was kind of dreading this confrontation.  By the obviously fake grin on Dean’s face, he could pretty much assume the other man was feeling the same way, but Castiel wanted answers and there needed to be no beating around the bush.  He began to steel himself for the inevitably uncomfortable conversation that was to come.

 

Finally, they arrived at the front of the restaurant.  Castiel wasn’t sure if he could take another moment of this tension.

 

After a brief moment of hesitation, Dean stepped to the door, holding it open and looking toward Castiel expectantly.  “After you, Madam,” He joked, cracking a weak smile as he waved his arm for Castiel to enter.  His green eyes were locked on Castiel’s blue ones and, wait…was that a _pleading_ look he was giving Castiel?

 

Castiel scrunched his face, only slightly annoyed.  “I am not a woman, Dean.”  Hesitantly, he let a small smile work its way onto his face.  “You’re the one that looks like a Disney Princess.”

 

Dean’s eyes twinkled at his words and he even chuckled a little, his smile now much more genuine.  “Haha, oh really?  Am I a Cinderella, or more of a Sleeping Beauty?”

 

Castiel mulled it over for a bit, his brow creasing thoughtfully and then responded.  “Definitely Cinderella.  And it’s not Sleeping Beauty, it’s Aurora.  Sleeping Beauty is the name of the movie.”  Castiel walked through the doorway and Dean followed closely behind, shutting the door on his way in.

 

“Huh.  Didn’t take you for a Disney geek.”  Dean mentioned, his voice tinted with amusement.  Castiel shot him a nasty look that only made Dean’s grin widen further.  “…You’re doing it again.”

 

“Doing what?”

 

Castiel watched as Dean’s eyes dropped to his mouth and then he immediately understood what the freckled man was talking about.  He was doing that leer-with-the-small-smile thing from earlier, that same look that had encouraged Dean to come back that evening.

 

Which reminded Castiel that he needed to get even with Kevin for setting him up like this.  Mental note taken.

                                                                              

As if Castiel had just noticed that they were inside the restaurant, he broke their little moment in order to look around.  The familiar smell of fried and spiced foods reached his nose, which combined with the background mariachi music put Castiel at ease.

 

“¡Castiel!  ¿Qué tal?”  Castiel beamed at the small Latina girl that was walking toward him.  He held out his arms and she quickly closed the distance between them, giving the dark-haired man a big squeeze before letting go.

 

" _Hi, Tiana.  How are you and your family doing?_ " 

Tiana shrugged.  " _The usual.  Nothing much has changed since you left, really._ "  She turned her head toward Dean, her black chin-length hair bobbing as she looked him over from head-to-toe.  Dean shifted under her gaze, smiling sheepishly.

 

“Heya, I’m Dean.”  He introduced himself with a cheeky wink.

 

She nodded, face emotionless.  “Tiana.  Pleasure.”  Turning back to Castiel, Tiana raised an eyebrow curiously and smirked.  “ _You’ve got good taste, love._ ”

Castiel could feel his his ears heating up with what was most likely another blush.  “ _Tiana, please!  It’s not like that…_ ”

 

Tiana rolled her honey-colored eyes.  “ _Yeah, sure._ ”Grabbing two menus from behind the front desk, she reconsidered it and then put one of them back.  “ _I know you, Castiel, and no offense but you don’t really make friends._   _Now let’s get you and your date a table before we scare him away._ ”

Castiel couldn’t help his fond smile as he followed the girl to a two-person table in the main dining room, which wasn’t quite filled up yet as it was still pretty early to have dinner.  Dean tagged along like a little puppy dog and Castiel felt kind of bad because the guy was practically radiating discomfort.  The two of them took their seats and Tiana placed the menu in front of Dean.

 

“I’ll be back in a bit to take your drink orders.”  And with that, Tiana left the two men alone at the table, but not before winking at Castiel when Dean wasn’t paying attention.

 

Once she was out of earshot, Dean cleared his throat to speak.  “Whoa, holy shit, Cas.  I had no idea you spoke Spanish!”

 

Castiel shrugged, although a swell of pride pulsed through his chest.  He found himself liking Dean’s praise quite a lot.  “It’s not too different from English, really.  And I’ve always had a knack for languages.”

 

Dean nodded, impressed.  “It all sounds like gibberish to me, but like I’ve said before math’s more of my kinda thing.  Anything else equals ‘no’ in my dictionary.”  He tilted his head to the side, seemingly contemplating something before speaking up again.  “So…why would I be Cinderella?”  He raised his eyebrows expectantly and flashed Castiel a white smile from across the table.

 

Even though Dean was being good-humored, Castiel had to remind himself that this wasn’t a date.  He was here for explanations and thus he answered accordingly; thank God for his quick wit.

 

“Because you left.”

 

Castiel’s harsh words instantly wiped away any trace of a smile from Dean’s face, whose eyes were now wide and his lips pressed together.  “Oh,” He responded, voice level and void of emotion.  Castiel wasn’t the only one sealing himself off.

 

Castiel blinked, crossing his arms.  “Yeah, so that happened.  Nothing we can do about it now.”  He tilted his head slightly to the left, squinting in his usual inquisitive way.  “What I want to know, Dean, is _why_?”

 

Dean looked like he was about to respond with something because he had opened his mouth, when Tiana returned with a curious expression on her round face.  “Date not off to a good start?”  She interrupted, looking between the two men.  When neither of them responded, she sighed, holding up a pen and small notebook.  “Huh, guess not.  So, what’ll it be for drinks?”

 

Castiel tried to force a small smile but failed miserably, instead making a face that looked more like a grimace.  “Just water for me, thanks.”  She nodded, jotting down a note and giving Castiel a quick apologetic look, which kind of irked him really.  He didn’t need anyone’s sympathy.

 

Dean dragged his hand down his face as if he was being required to deal with something—or some _one_ —highly unpleasant.  “What do ya have here that’s strong?”

 

Tiana snorted once before answering.  “Well, we make some banging sangria if that’s your kind of thing.”

 

“Don’t know what the hell that is, but I’ll take it.”

 

“Pitcher or cup?”

 

“Pitcher.  Definitely a pitcher.  Or two—”

 

“One is enough,” Castiel cut in, his tone harsh.  While he usually wasn’t one to lobby for the sobriety of others, he wasn’t about to watch Dean drink himself into oblivion.  By the looks both Tiana and Dean were giving him at the moment, no one was planning to object, either.

 

Tiana’s eyebrows were raised as she folded up the notebook with a small _clap_ , sliding the pen into her shirt’s breast pocket.  “Okayyy…well, now that this has been made sufficiently awkward, I think I’ll go and get those drinks now.”  She quickly made her leave and the two men were once again left alone.  A few seconds of silence passed before any further conversation was attempted.

 

“Cas, I didn’t—“

 

“Save it,” Castiel snapped, glaring intently at Dean.  “I asked you a question and I deserve an answer.”  Dean broke their eye contact at this point, bringing a hand up to rub at the back of his neck.  Seemed like that was a nervous habit of his.

 

“I…I don’t know.”  At the moment Dean was occupying himself by studying the wallpaper design as if it was the Mona Lisa.

 

Castiel rolled his eyes at Dean’s pitiful answer.  “Yeah, sure.  How is it that I don’t believe you, then?”

 

Flinching, Dean slowly turned his head to look Castiel in the eye.  He swallowed deeply before speaking up again.  “Uh, Lisa…She thought you and I…”  He stopped mid-sentence, his mouth closing into a thin line.  His expression was one of a vulnerable animal about to be beat by his owner, which sent a twang of guilt through Castiel’s chest.

 

Although Dean didn’t finish his sentence, it only took Castiel a few moments to put two and two together.  And frankly it left him feeling sick to his stomach.  Lisa had left Dean because of _him_.  She though Dean was cheating on her with _him_.  Naturally for Castiel, he was now blaming himself for their breakup.  He felt the conviction drain from his face as he slumped down in his seat, taken aback by the situation.

 

As if Dean was some kind of psychic, his facial expression hardened and he stared intently at Castiel from across the table.  “Oh hell no.  Don’t you _dare_ go fucking blaming yourself for my shitty relationship, Cas.  It was going to happen sooner or later anyway.”

 

Despite Dean’s attempts to make him feel better, Castiel still felt guilty.  “But Dean—“

 

“No.  Just fucking don’t, Cas.”  Dean sighed, leaning forward in his seat to fold his arms on the table.  “It was my fault, not yours.  Got it?”

 

“Then what does this have to do with why you stopped coming to see me?”  Castiel tried to keep any sign of a falter out of his voice, although he wasn’t completely sure that it worked.

 

“I didn’t come back ‘cause…”  Dean seemed to be looking for the right words to say, his gaze briefly drifting off to the left before returning to Castiel.  “You reminded me of her too much.”

 

Castiel blinked, surprised.  He was definitely not expecting that answer.  “W-What do you mean?  Do I look like her, or…?”

 

Dean shook his head, smiling bitterly.  “No, nothing like that.”  He shrugged and then continued with his explanation.  “I was a mess and wanted to cut everything about her outta my life.  And that meant even you, since she thought we had something going on and that’s why she decided to finally leave me.”  He began to pop his knuckles absentmindedly as he spoke.  “I was being selfish and a dumbass ‘cuz I didn’t even stop to think about you, and I...I’m…”  Dean’s face scrunched up, his face a mass of regret.

 

“Sorry, Cas.”

 

Castiel inhaled sharply, his eyes wide and wavering.  The last thing he was expecting was Dean, of all people, to be outright apologizing to him.  Needless to say he was at a loss for words and eternally grateful for when Tiana returned with the pitcher of sangria, water and an empty glass.  She placed the empty glass in front of Dean and the water in front of Castiel, sliding the pitcher into the center of the table.  Dean enthusiastically grabbed the pitcher, pouring the reddish-purple liquid into his glass.

 

Tiana raised an eyebrow at Dean’s vigor.  “Careful with that stuff, hon.  It’s pretty sweet, but don’t let that fool you.”

 

Dean waved her off.  “Ha, don’t worry, sweetheart.  No fruity chick drink’s gonna be able to phase me.”  He took a large gulp of the beverage, licking his lips appreciatively as he swallowed.  “Good stuff.”  Castiel most definitely didn’t follow the motion of Dean’s tongue with his eyes; that would just be perverted.

 

Tiana rolled her eyes, looking both amused and slightly annoyed.  “ _He’ll get what’s coming to him._ ”  Castiel stifled a giggle, earning a curious look from Dean.

 

“Hey, that’s not fair!  No Spanish while I’m here,” Dean whined, pouting and looking between Castiel and Tiana, who were now both trying to hold back fits of laughter.

 

“Hehe, whatever you say.”  Once again pulling out her mini notepad and pen, Tiana cleared her throat.  “So have you decided what you want yet?”  She looked at Dean and then over to Castiel.

 

Castiel also cleared his throat, trying to keep the smile at bay that was threatening to show itself.  Tiana seemed to have alleviated the seriousness of the conversation between the two of them, thank God.  After all, he would be lying if he said that he didn’t want to enjoy himself with Dean…

 

Whoa there.  What’s with this sudden change of heart?

 

“Um, I’ll take the chile relleno special, please,” Castiel recited his favorite dish from memory.  Tiana smirked knowingly and nodded, jotting down his order before turning to Dean.  Dean was fumbling, having just taken notice of the menu in front of him.

 

“I, uh, err…”  Dean frowned at the menu—which was mostly in Spanish—and then sighed in defeat, placing it back on the table.  “I’ll just have what he’s having, I guess.  The chili ray-in-o, or whatever the hell it is.”

 

Tiana didn’t even bother holding back a snort, taking Dean’s menu from in front of him.  “Alrighty.  Be back with your dinner soon.”  She slapped Dean on the back with enough force to make him almost choke on the mouthful of sangria he had taken.  “I like you, Kid.  You’re funny.”  With that, she spun around and walked away to attend to another table.  Dean stared daggers into her back for a couple of seconds.

 

“Who’s she calling Kid?  I’m pretty sure I’m almost twice her age.”  Remembering something he was going to say earlier, Dean turned his head back toward Castiel and his sudden movement quickly captured Castiel’s attention.  “Oh yeah, how do you know her anyway?  And besides that, why didn’t you use a menu?  Did ya frickin’ live here or somethin’?”

 

“Actually, yes, I did.”

 

Dean blinked, his mouth slightly ajar.  “Wait, are you serious?  That was supposed to just be a joke.”

 

Castiel nodded.  “Of course.  The Gonzalez family provided me with food, shelter and clothing in exchange for labor.  They are very kind.”  Castiel hesitated a moment before continuing.  “They also helped me along during my therapy.”  This really seemed to peak Dean’s interest because his eyes lit up with...was that _pride_ that Castiel was seeing?

 

“Oh wow, really?  How did those sessions go, by the way?”

 

Castiel couldn’t help but smile a little at Dean’s concern.  That warmth from earlier once again surged inside his chest.  “They worked wonders and now I don’t drink alcohol at all…obviously.”  Dean seemed content with this answer, so Castiel continued to speak.  “After I finished my sessions and felt comfortable enough to trust myself alone, I left.  I needed to start fending for myself again and I didn’t want to be a burden here any longer than was necessary.”

 

Dean frowned a little at that last part, taking another swig of sangria.  “Why do you still do that?”

 

Castiel mirrored his frown.  “Do what?”

 

Dean stuck out his hand that was holding the drink, pointer finger extended accusingly toward Castiel.  “That I’m-nothing-but-a-burden bullshit.”  Castiel shifted uncomfortably in his seat under Dean’s scrutiny.  “Despite what you might think, dude, it doesn’t go unnoticed.”

 

Castiel indignantly pushed the inside of his right cheek outward with his tongue before replying.  Somehow Dean always seemed able to get under his skin like that.  “You would be the same way if you had nothing to give back to the world for pretty much your entire adulthood.”  Seeing that Dean’s disapproving gaze didn’t waver, the blue-eyed man sighed and slumped down in his chair.  “I guess it’s…also a bad habit that’s hard to break.”

 

“Damn straight, it is!”  Dean exclaimed a little too loudly, finishing off his first glass of the purplish liquor and then pouring himself another from the pitcher.  “God, Cas, this stuff is the shit.”  After he had finished pouring, Dean shook his head slightly, earning him a smirk from Castiel.  The drink’s hidden potency was already taking its effect on the guy; Castiel knew what being buzzed looked like.

 

“Some chick drink, huh?”

 

“Ah, shut up, Angel.”  Dean mumbled loosely around a mouthful of the sweet wine.  Swallowing, he raised an eyebrow curiously.  “So I guess you got that job at Starbucks after you left this place?”

 

Castiel made an interesting gesture, one that was sort of a cross between a nod and a shrug.  “More or less.  Got myself a cheap little apartment to stay in...”  He smiled fondly, making his glass of water ring by rubbing a wet finger around the lip.  “It’s pretty tiny and not in the best shape, but it is a place I can call my own nonetheless.  I like it.”

 

A blindingly-white wolfish grin burst forth on Dean’s face, startling Castiel.  “You’re adorable,” He commented, emerald eyes sparkling merrily.  Castiel blushed furiously, looking away from Dean and down at his water instead, trying to hold back the smile that threatened to work its way onto his own face.

 

Oh yeah, he was supposed to find out what in the world this light, cloud-like feeling inside of him even meant anyway.

 

“Am not…”  Castiel retorted weakly, embarrassed and yet also flattered by Dean’s all-too-forward words.

 

“Are too.”

 

“I swear, you two are going to give me diabetes.”  The two men both jumped a little in their seats, unaware that Tiana had returned.  She walked around the table and placed the two dishes in her hands down in front of them.  “Looks like things are going better.”

 

Castiel rolled his eyes, giving her a pleading look.  “Please, Tiana, can you for once _not_ worry about my love life?”

 

The short girl stuck her tongue out at Castiel defiantly, hands now resting on her hips.  “I will once you finally get a damn boyfriend!”

 

“Real mature…” An idea striking him, Castiel’s eyes grew dark and a wicked smile grew on his face, “… _Tay-tay_.”

 

Tiana flushed, her eyes staring accusingly at the dark-haired man.  “ _Don’t_ call me that!”

 

Castiel only laughed in response, and Dean raised a curious eyebrow before turning to the waitress.  “Tay-tay?” He asked, obvious amusement present in his voice.

 

Tiana threw her hands in the air as if to ask _‘God, why?’_.  “My little brother calls me that, okay?!  But he’s the _only_ person allowed to call me that.”  She glared at Dean and then at Castiel to make her point clear.  If looks could kill, Castiel was pretty sure that he and Dean would be goners.

 

Dean held his hands up in surrender.  “Got it, sister.   My lil’ bro, Sam and I got the same thing, anyway.”  He puffed his chest out to emphasize his words; Castiel had to stifle more giggling because Dean was most definitely under the influence.  “I’m the only one who can call him Sammy.”

 

Tiana studied Dean for a few moments before she replied.  “Hmph, whatever.”  Spinning around, she walked away with a huff and not another word.  Castiel, however, had caught the slightest hint of a smile before she had left.

 

Castiel chuckled, using a knife and fork to cut his chile relleno into bite-sized pieces.  “Don’t worry, Dean, she’s warming up to you already.”  He stabbed one of the bites with his fork and then brought it up to his mouth, blowing on it gently before wrapping his lips around the morsel.  With a small moan of approval he slid the fork out of his mouth, chewing slowly as his eyelids fluttered shut in bliss.  He could never get over how good the food here was.

 

A sharp inhale from across the table snapped Castiel out of his current foodgasm.  Looking up, he found Dean staring at him with wide eyes, knuckles white from gripping the table tightly.  His cheeks were pink and, Castiel assumed, the second—or was it third?—empty glass of sangria had something to do with that.  I mean, what else could’ve been the reason?

 

“C-Cas…”  Dean whimpered, wetting his chapped lips with his tongue.  His pupils were oddly dilated.

 

Castiel tilted his head to the side and frowned; apparently he was oblivious to the situation.  “Dean?”  He responded, wanting the other man to continue with an explanation.

 

“You…can you, er, not eat like that?”

 

He still had no idea what Dean meant and it was beginning to get a little irritating.  “Like what?”

 

Dean cleared his throat uncomfortably, waving a hand in Castiel’s direction.  “Uh, y’know…all sexy and stuff.  It’s really distracting.”

 

….What.  WHAT.

 

Castiel didn’t have to check to know that his face was probably beet-red right now.  “O-Oh…”  Was about all he could manage.  Dean had basically just called him sexy.  _Dean_ just called _him_ sexy.  His heart was racing; oh God, he was _glad_.

 

And again, WHAT??

 

He was now beginning to understand why Dean made him feel so happy.  Because Castiel would be lying if he said he didn’t consider the tall, confident, emerald-eyed man sitting across from him to be attractive.  Especially with that blush of his which accentuated his freckles.  So was that the real reason Castiel had asked to have dinner with Dean?  Had he been thinking with the wrong head, or—even more terrifying of a thought—had he been thinking normally the entire time?  Castiel wasn’t sure if he could handle the magnitude of the meaning behind all of this speculation.

 

“Cas?  Hey man, you alright?”

 

Castiel instantly became self-conscious, only now noticing that he had been staring at Dean this entire time like a deer into the headlights of a car.  He swallowed, which required more effort than usual.  “Y-Yeah…sorry,” He replied, forcing himself to calm down.  After a few slow and deep breaths, his heart rate had decreased significantly enough to regain his composure somewhat.  “You just…caught me off-guard a little there.”  That was a colossal understatement.

 

The rest of their dinner was awkward and brimming with sexual tension, no thanks to Dean’s current intoxication (which only progressed farther and farther the more he drank.)  Dean shared with Cas everything major that had happened to him since last year, which surprisingly wasn’t much.  He got a promotion at work and eventually he and Lisa had come to civil terms with each other even though they decided not to continue a relationship, but that was about it.  Cas couldn’t help noticing that Dean seemed to talk about the past year with a sort of melancholy.

 

By the time they were done with the food, Dean had finished off the entire pitcher of sangria despite Cas’ protests.  He was currently in no shape to be leaving by himself.

 

Tiana, who had come over to say her goodbyes, eyed Dean smugly.  “I told you it packed a punch.  You’re gonna have one hell of a hangover, Ken doll.”

 

Dean waved dismissively in Tiana’s general direction, arm flopping down by his side limply.  “Ahh, shut it, lady…I’m fine, nushin’ ta worry ‘bout…”

 

Castiel got up from his seat and walked over to Tiana, giving her a hug and a kiss on the cheek.  “It was wonderful seeing you again, Tiana.”

 

She smiled affectionately, hugging back.  “You too, Cas.  Don’t be a stranger.”  When they pulled apart, Castiel nodded and then the both of them redirected their attention to Dean who was currently struggling to get out of his chair without toppling over.  Castiel walked over from beside Tiana and took a firm hold of Dean’s arm, helping the drunken man to his feet.

 

“I hash ta go home now, bye-bye Cash…”  Dean made a motion to pull his arm away from Castiel, but the smaller man held on tight.

 

“Oh no, you don’t.  I’m taking you back to your apartment, Dean; you can barely stand up on your own.”  Just now remembering, Castiel turned his head to Tiana with an apologetic look.  “I’m sorry, Tiana, I almost forgot to pay.  Can I give you my card?”

 

Tiana chuckled, shaking her head.  “Don’t worry about it, hon.  Dinner’s on the house.”

 

Castiel grinned; he knew from experience that there was no use arguing with Tiana’s generosity.  “Thanks.  You really are too kind.”

 

“Ah, don’t mention it,” she replied, punching him lightly in the arm.  “Now get outta here before your man-friend keels over in the restaurant; _then_ we’d start having some problems.”  She winked and Castiel obliged, slinging one of Dean’s arms over his shoulders and helping him out of the restaurant and to the street.  A few minutes later and Castiel was able to wave down a taxi and after probing Dean for a decent amount of time, he finally managed to get the apartment address out of him.

 

Castiel chose to use the time in the cab to think over their conversation at the restaurant, as well as to contemplate the apparent crush he had on Dean.

 

*

 

The walk up the stairs inside the apartment complex was a struggle.  Luckily, Dean’s apartment was on the second floor, otherwise it would’ve been nearly impossible for Castiel to get Dean home.  Dean was six-foot-one and considerably muscular, so he was most definitely _not_ easy to move around.  After an awkward jumble and exchange, Castiel managed to get the keys from Dean and open the front door.

 

The pair stumbled into the apartment, Dean attempting to sing the lyrics to some unknown song.  Castiel probably would’ve been able to recognize the song if Dean weren’t completely off-key and mumbling the words as a result of his intoxication.

 

“Dean…Dean!”  Castiel tried to get the other man’s attention, shaking him gently for good measure.  “Where should I take you?”

 

Dean stopped his singing and turned his head to look at Castiel, a stupid grin now plastered on his face.  “Take me to the couch, pretty guy…” he slurred, pitch dropping in a silly attempt to be seductive.  He started to lean forward, eyes trained on Castiel’s mouth and Castiel was pretty sure that his heart might have jumped through the roof.  Dean’s lips were full and chapped…maybe he could lick them back to normal…

 

INAPPROPRIATE SEXY THOUGHTS.  ABORT, ABORT!!

 

“D-Dean, you’re drunk…”  Castiel turned his head away and Dean’s lips made contact with the side of his head instead, bumping against him uncomfortably.  “…You need to sleep.”  Ignoring Dean’s whines of protest, Castiel dragged the other man into the living room, gently pushing on his shoulders to lay him down on the couch.  “I’ll check on you tomorrow, okay?”

 

Not waiting to hear Dean’s affirmation, Castiel turned around and promptly left the apartment.

 

…Well, that’s what would’ve happened if Dean hadn’t grabbed his arm and pulled him down onto the couch with him.

 

Castiel blinked, still not completely sure what just happened, but soon came to the realization that he was laying flush against Dean, who at the moment was grinning up at him like the Cheshire Cat.  “Hi, Angel,” Dean whispered, chuckling giddily as he wrapped his arms around Castiel’s waist to pull him in tighter.

 

His face redder than it had been all night, Castiel struggled to free himself of Dean’s grip.  “D-Dean, sto—NGH!”  His protest was cut off when Dean rolled his hips upward, the freckled man’s obvious erection rubbing against Castiel’s own crotch.  Castiel gasped, shaking his head.  He couldn’t give into this, no matter how loudly every fiber in his body was screaming “Yes!Yes!Yes!” and “Do!Do!Do!”.  This was wrong, this—

 

“Ah!”  Castiel’s head jerked back the second time their hips clashed.  Dean’s hand had found its way to his ass and had squeezed, simultaneously forcing Castiel’s hips down even more to produce maximum friction between their bodies.  At that moment, all coherent thoughts left Castiel’s mind and he no longer fought his desire; for once he was going to indulge himself in something just for the hell of it.  Just because he _wanted_ to, he was finally going to do something selfish.

 

He dropped his head down to catch Dean’s lips with his own, at first a tentative kiss but gradually the kiss was made deeper and more passionate.  He moaned as an apparently hidden box was unlocked within him, letting loose desires that he hadn’t even aware of.  He dragged his tongue across Dean’s lips just like he pictured doing in his previous fantasy, Dean grunting in approval and parting his lips to grant Castiel further access.

 

This was actually happening.  Castiel could hardly believe it.

 

By now, Castiel was equally as hard as Dean, his own erection straining against the fabric of his pants.  He was hypersensitive for whatever reason, and by the way Dean’s breathing had become ragged and labored he assumed that Dean was probably in a similar situation.

 

“Cas…”  Dean whimpered, pressing down on Castiel’s ass and grinding up into his hips again.  This time their cocks rubbed across each other through the cloth of their pants, ripping gasps and moans out of the two men.  They were both horny and tired from a long day, contributing to their sensitivity and arousal.

 

Castiel muffled Dean’s gasps by darting his tongue inside his mouth, seeking out a taste that only could belong to Dean.  Unfortunately Dean’s mouth tasted mainly of sweet alcohol from that night’s sangria, but under that sour layer of alcohol there was that Dean taste that Castiel was looking for.  He chased it, searching every corner of Dean’s mouth for more.  Dean’s own tongue brushed over and alongside Castiel’s, parrying his advances.

 

The pooling heat in Castiel’s abdomen was enough of a warning that Castiel broke their make-out session, panting against Dean’s skin.  “Dean, stop, I-I’m—”

 

“Shhhh…” Dean cooed, his green eyes glazed with drunkenness and pupils blown with lust.  He suddenly increased the pace of their grinding, thrusting upward against Castiel’s hips with a gusto that was everything needed to send Castiel over the edge.  With a sharp cry of Dean’s name, Castiel’s back arched from the intensity of the orgasm, his eyes rolling back in his head.  The overstimulation of the rough fabric of Dean’s jeans had proven to be too much to handle.  By the guttural noise Dean’s throat was making and the way that he was shaking beneath Castiel, it was apparent that Dean had followed closely behind Castiel’s own climax.  Castiel collapsed onto Dean, his head resting beside Dean’s and the two of them breathing heavily.  Their bodies were drenched in sweat, both in dire need to get out of their clothes and take a shower, yet Castiel found himself unwilling to pull away from Dean’s warmth.

 

A few minutes after their quick bump-and-grind session and the two men had calmed down considerably, both breathing normally again but now also completely drained of energy.  Dean yawned sleepily, arms still wrapped snugly around Castiel as he spoke.  “You can leave now, if you want…”

 

Castiel snorted, nuzzling into the crook of Dean’s neck.  “Shut up, Dean.”

 

“But Cash…”

 

“Just shut the hell up and go to sleep, you moron.”

 

Dean didn’t protest any more, and the warmth of his body and his masculine scent slowly lulled Castiel into a deep, restful slumber.


End file.
